


A Nobody

by tayraystar



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Assassin!AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayraystar/pseuds/tayraystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s you, there’s a gun, and the whole world is at your mercy. That was her life. And it was his too.” Spitfire!AU where Artemis Crock works as a gun for hire and a boy with red hair and green eyes follows her around the world because he’s determined to win the girl. Or, as Brella puts it: THEY’RE MAKING OUT AND THERE ARE GUNS!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nobody

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic based off an ask!fic I wrote anonymously for my friend on Tumblr.  
> I hope you all enjoy it! Additional notes at the end~

They meet in Hong Kong.

The heavy air, the smell of nicotine, the heat beating off the street in waves. She takes it all in, her eyes flicking around the corner to make sure the coast is clear. Except it’s not, because he’s there, smiling at her, gun in hand.

“You should’ve cleaned the chair for prints. In Australia. You know what I mean.”

She keeps calm, one hand behind her back, fingers reaching. “Who are you?”

“I’m no one. Just like you.”

“Why are you here?”

“Is the gun not obvious enough?” He lifts it, points it at her, but then he’s not the only one. She’s got her own out, sunlight glinting off the silver, both hands grasping the metal tightly.

“Put your gun down.” She orders, but he just laughs.

“Why don’t you?”

“I asked you first.”

There’s a moment where no one moves. He watches her, she watches him, and slowly, he kneels down, placing the gun on the ground.

“Kick it. Towards me.”

He does, then he’s standing up, both hands going up in surrender.

“Now why don’t you do the same?”

“Because I’m in control now. Turn around, walk towards the wall.”

He complies, still smiling. She can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she can see the tips of his orange hair from underneath his cap. He looks to be in his mid to late twenties. Like her. 

She walks towards him, gun always pointed at the back of his head, because if he moves she won’t be afraid to shoot. He would slump against the wall or fall to the ground and she would be gone, never even there. 

“What do you want?” 

He twists his head to the side so he can look at her. His answer is simple enough: “You.” 

She’s not satisfied with it at all.

“Who sent you?” 

“Myself.” 

“How did you find me?” 

“I told you. The fingerprints. In Australia. Along with a dead politician and whispers of a girl in black. Didn’t take long to hack the security cameras and track your face across the globe.” 

Her hold on her gun tightens, her lips press together, and he’s still smiling. 

“I wiped the cameras.” 

“Not well enough, it seems.” 

“Why? Why take the trouble to find me?” 

He doesn’t respond, and she presses the gun to his head firmly. 

“Tell me or I’ll shoot.”

And despite the fact that he’s moving, turning around to face her, she doesn’t shoot because he’s smiling and she wants answers. 

“Because you’re no one. Just like me.” 

And then he’s stepping forward, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. 

She’s taken completely by surprise, eyes widening before they close involuntarily and he’s moving her, turning them around so she’s now the one pressed up against the wall. His hands move around her wrists and hold them above her head, and she knows what he’s doing, but she can’t make herself pull away, because he’s smiling as he kisses her and the air is thick with heat and yet she can only feel his warmth. 

This Nobody, who’s now grabbing the gun from her loose fingers and pressing it to the side of her head. And as he pulls away, one hand holding up her wrists and the other holding the gun to her temple, she doesn’t try to break out of his hold. 

“Tell me who you are.” She breathes, and she watches as a drop of sweat moves down his forehead and catches on his sunglasses. Even this close she can’t see what color his eyes are. And yet she knows. 

“I’m no one, like you, Artemis.”

And he’s still smiling as he drops her arms and her gun, taking a slow step backwards, and then another. She watches him take every step, and she finds herself smiling too, smiling at this No One who knows her name. Her real name, one she hasn’t heard in years. She should have known it would be him. Should have guessed. 

“I’ll be in Madrid next week. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

And as he turns to go, she calls: “I’ll see you there, Wally.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

This is Gotham:

Artemis remembers the Summer when she was thirteen.

Her bare feet skimming the top of the grass that was completely soaked with water but still brown and dead, and her fathers gun heavy in her hands as she stares at it, all silver and metallic and despite the heat it was cold and hard and unforgiving.

And she sat there, on the rusty garden seat, staring at the weapon in her hands, refusing to look at the limp figure lying on the ground in front of her, his blood red and watery as it coated the grass and dirt and her hands, her skin a natural copper, the blood turning it red.

And she had been afraid, because in the small gap between the overgrown hedge and the fence at the back of the yard, a boy with red hair had stared at her, his green eyes wide and disbelieving.

She could have made it look like an accident, like she was overwhelmed with grief because she’d just shot and killed someone, but she didn’t. She stared at him, he stared at her, and then he was gone, and she was alone.

Her father had been furious that she had been seen. He tried to find the boy, but he was nowhere to be found.

A week later nothing happened. Two weeks, three, still nothing. A month, not a thing.

Then, four years later on her seventeenth birthday, and Artemis found herself leaving her father behind her, for good, and then she heard the gunshot. She ran to her father’s office, and there he sat, slumped in his seat, mouth open and blood dripping from the hole in his head.

And the boy with red hair and green eyes turned to smile at her.

“A gift.” He said, and then he jumped out the window.

She wanted to find this boy so she could thank him.

 

~*~

 

This is Paris:

Artemis was nineteen, and she was staring into the barrel of a shotgun in a bar.

The man holding the gun was missing a front tooth. That would be because she had just knocked it out.

“Get outta here.” He spat at her feet, a mixture of blood and saliva. She smiles, taking a step backwards, losing her balance and flailing to get it back.

“Yessir!” She says cheerily, turning and lurching towards the door, completely unprepared for the blast of the cool Winter air that greeted her. Her breath puffing in little clouds in front of her face, she wound her arms tightly over her chest, making her way down the snow packed street. Her steps were sloppy, her breath shaky, and she heard the bar door open and close behind her.

She heads down a small street, free of prying eyes and curious ears. And she knows that she’s being followed.

“Hey. You.” A man calls, and she turns, drunken gait disappearing. There’s a gun already in her hands, and she fires only once. He gasps, he falls, and she leaves to collect her payment.

Only a day later there’s a knock at her hotel door.

She’s on guard instantly, one hand resting on the gun tucked into her pants, the other reaching out to the door to turn the handle. She opens it quickly, ready to fight or fly, but then she stops, her whole body freezing mid-motion.

Because it’s him, the boy with the red hair and green eyes.

“Artemis Crock, you are one hard girl to find.”

Her eyes narrow. “I don’t know who Artemis Crock is. I think you have the wrong room. You should go now, before I do something drastic.”

“What are you going to do, shoot me?”

“I might, yeah.”

He smiles brightly, and she frowns darkly, tightening her hold on the gun behind her back.

“I’m unarmed. Please, let me come in. I won’t hurt you.”

“You couldn’t even if you were armed.” But she lets him in anyway, thoughts of that night in her father’s office, him standing over her fathers slumped form with the gun in his hand and his smile. A gift, he’d said. A gift for her, because he had seen what her father had made her do, what he’d done to her himself. And she had never thanked him.

“I didn’t kill him for fun, you know.” He says, and he must have been thinking of the same thing, because as she closes the door and turns to him, he’s staring at her intently.

“I figured.”

“I killed him because he made you kill. And yet here you are, still killing. But for money this time. A gun for hire. Why is that, Artemis Crock?”

“It’s Beth.” Artemis says quickly. “My name is Beth.”

He just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

She lets out a breath. “I can’t just be normal after what he trained me to do. I can’t get a house, go to the supermarket, meet a boy and start a family. I’m forever looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is following me—and, if you’re standing here, I’m not doing a very good job at that.” She pushes past him, one hand moving through her short blonde hair. “I’m doing what I know, what I do best. And I’m making a living out of it.” She turns back to him. “Who are you to question me?”

His smile fades slightly, his expression giving way to something dark, but then he smiles again and it’s gone. “I’ve been trying to find you for a while.”

“Since you seem to know all about me, why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’m curious to know about the boy who killed my father.” Her eyes narrow, and she steps towards him. She sees him shift slightly, reacting to her movement. Good to know. “Do you work for the Government? For a Russian gang? Are you a spy for the Chinese or an agent for a rogue Australian company?”

“I’m like you.” He says it bitterly.

“And you’re giving me crap for being a gun for hire.”

“Because it’s dangerous work. I know what it’s like out there, I’ve nearly been killed doing a job—”

“You think I haven’t? I can take care of myself. Save your worry for someone who cares. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Artemis moves over to the bed and picks up her suitcase, carrying it over to the door and turning back to him. “I’ve got a plane to catch. Don’t follow me, or I will have to kill you.”

Despite her warning, when she enters the elevator and turns to face the hallway, he’s walking towards her.

“Artemis—”

“It’s Beth.” She says, and fires her gun. She sees him staring down at his side, mouth falling open as the elevator doors close.

 

~*~

 

This is Stockholm:

It’s Spring and Artemis is twenty-one.

She’s taken a flight from New York to Dunedin, then to Stockholm, where she was supposed to catch another flight to London. But the flight was delayed because of stormy weather over the whole of England, and now she’s stuck sitting still, which is what she hates most. She always has to be doing something, whether it was shooting practice, fighting practice, or picking up a new job.

“I’m sorry, Miss Waters, but I can’t do anything about your flight. May I suggest booking another ticket? The next flight to London leaves tomorrow afternoon—”

“I can’t wait that long. I have an important meeting I need to get to.” Not a lie. It was better to stick as much to the truth as you could, her father had always said. It leaves less room for detection.

“Again, I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. If you could just take the time to listen, I may be able to get you a new flight—”

Artemis notices she’s beginning to attract attention, and she instantly quietens her objections, instead saying in her calmest voice: “Fine. Next flight to London, please.”

That’s the reason he finds her again.

“Hey, honey, sorry it took me so long.” She knows it’s him even before he’s leaning in and pressing a light kiss onto her cheek. She fights the urge to punch him. Instead, she gives him an icy glare out of the corner of her eye, before quickly turning to the lady behind the counter who’s looking at them with a small frown.

“So, that was, two tickets to London?” She asks, and Artemis grits her teeth in irritation.

“Uh, no, actually—”

“Yes.” He says, smiling brightly. “That’s exactly it.”

He flashes his passport so quickly Artemis has no time to read the name on it—not like it would help anyway, it would probably be a fake name—and he pays for both their tickets. As soon as the lady hands the tickets over, Artemis grabs his arm and drags him away from the crowds of people.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She hisses, turning on him, still holding his arm firmly.

“You shot me.”

“That was two years ago.”

“I hold grudges.”

“You need to leave. Before someone gets hurt. Namely, you.”

“I can’t, I’m afraid.” He pulls his arm away from her grip and uses it to run his hand through his hair. He’s wearing it shorter now, so it doesn’t hang in his eyes like it did. “I have a flight to London I need to get to.”

He’s so infuriating, with his charm and wit and smile. Artemis doesn’t give in to it, he can’t talk his way into this. She won’t let him.

“Fine then. Just stay away from me. If I see you again I will kill you. You got that?”

“Loud and clear, Artemis.”

“Kacey. It’s Kacey.”

Despite her warning, she was forced to sit beside him in the flight the next day. He was all smiles and courtesies and she was all frowns and silence.

She had to get rid of him, somehow.

Hard winds and heavy rain was London’s greeting. The storm hadn’t passed over completely, but it was enough for her flight to land safely and Artemis was glad. She was sick of glaring out the window into the endless grey and ignoring Mr Chatty beside her.

When she gets out of the plane he follows her like a shadow. When she goes through the airport and gets her bag, he’s still there. When she checks out and enters the wet cold, he’s still there. She hails a taxi, and he’s beside her, smiling at her.

“You need to leave.” She finally says as a taxi pulls up beside her.

“I am.”

“Not with me.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I meant it yesterday when I said I would kill you if I ever saw you again.”

He presses his lips together, before finally taking a step back. “I’ll find you again.”

“I keep my promises.”

“You will have forgotten about killing me by then.”

Artemis smiles as she opens the taxi door, the first one she’s ever actually done for him. “Not likely.” She climbs in and slams the car door. She doesn’t look back as the taxi drives away.

 

~*~

 

This is Singapore:

It’s three months until she sees him again. Or really, his gunshot.

She’s working a job for a nameless businessman who wants his rival out of the game. She doesn’t know who they are, doesn’t care. She’d stopped asking questions a few years ago. Less guilt that way.

It’s a tricky job, because the target is paranoid, heavily guarded and under tight security at all times. Her window of opportunity is small, she will only be able to get him when he’s boarding his flight to Japan. She’s on a strict time limit. There was a reason no one else took this job, but she desperately needs the money, because her last job failed and she was left stranded without payment.

She’s already at the airport and peering into her red dot sight, her finger twitching over the trigger, when another shot comes from the opposite direction and hits the target square in the chest. The force makes him stumble back, and then he crumples to the ground.

Artemis pulls the gun in the direction of the shot, looking through the sight for the culprit, and groaning out loud when she sees a flash of red hair.

She packs up quickly, taking the gun apart and packing it into the briefcase, flicking the locks and running to her escape point. And, sure enough, there he is.

“You took my kill!” She calls, and he whips around, grinning from ear to ear.

He looks half mad, eyes shining and face flushed with excitement. Artemis is familiar with the feeling, of playing god, ending a life with your own hands. It’s an unforgettable thrill, a buzz of pure giddiness, because the force of the gun firing and the sight of the target falling to the ground all because of you. You’re in control of everything then. And then it’s over all too soon and you just have to feel it again, and again. So you take another job. It’s addictive, like a drug, except it’s more than that because it makes you feel invincible. There’s you, there’s a gun, and the whole world is at your mercy.

That was her life. And it was his too.

“Did you see it?” He asks her, ignoring her glare, ignoring the edge in her voice, because he’s completely drunk on the high. It’s almost as if he’s never killed before. But she knows that it feels the same way every time. “Right in the target’s chest. The bullet even grazed the ear of one of his guards, but it didn’t stop!”

“I saw it. Because I was about to shoot him myself, seeing as he was my target.” But there’s no bitterness in her voice, and she finds herself grinning back at him, because she knows exactly what he’s going through, what he’s feeling.

He opens his mouth to reply, but they hear a shout, and she turns towards it to see three guards running towards them, guns raised.

He looks at her, she looks at him, and then they run.

They’re both puffing heavily by the time they stop running, yet he seems to find enough breath to start laughing, and it’s contagious because then she’s laughing too, loud and breathless and impossible. 

And this, this is Singapore. Him and her and laughter after running for their lives, and for once she enjoys his company, because living like this is so lonely, and he offers to drive her home.

And why not, she thinks. It can’t hurt.

And they reach her hotel, his buzz still running on high and her amusement at his smile and as she goes to unlock her room he moves in front of her and kisses her.

Her first reaction is to punch him, this nameless boy who gave her a gift a few years ago who has followed her across the globe with his red hair at different lengths each time she sees him and green eyes that are always sharp and gentle and his smile, which is pressed against her lips, and instead she responds, her lips moving with his and her tongue licking its way inside because why not, it can’t hurt.

And then somehow she’s lying with her head on her pillow and he’s above her, pressing kisses into her neck and biting at her skin to make her gasp and his hips move down, skin against skin and she claws his back as he fills her and moves her and for a second she’s confused because she doesn’t have a name to cry out but it goes away as a wave of pleasure washes over her and she’s trembling through the aftershocks as he gasps her name, and then he’s put his full weight on her, and she’s overheated and sweaty and she doesn’t even know his name.

But he gave her a gift a few years ago, and why not? It can’t hurt. Because this is Singapore, and this is the start.

 

~*~

 

This is Rome:

Artemis is twenty-two. She constantly thinks of the boy who came into her life blazing sunlight and then left in the deep 3am shadows of the moon. Who gasped her name when she had no name to gasp herself. Who kissed his name into her skin in a language she couldn’t read. Who hasn’t even bothered to call.

And it’s fine, she thinks, because life goes on and there’s always a new job to occupy her time.

“Rome.” Richard Grayson’s voice comes through the speaker phone, and Artemis zips up her suitcase, leaning on the top to press the lid down.

“What have I got to do?” She asks, moving over to the phone, taking it off speaker and pressing it back to her ear.

“It’s a lead actor in a play.” In the background she can hear the squeal of his daughter, and then his wife’s voice calming her down. Zatanna, was her name. She could almost be Dicks sister, they looked so alike, but it was only a big coincidence that didn’t stop them from marrying and having a baby girl. Dicks parents had been business partners with her father, and that was how she got her first job. He became her go-to man for contracts, and it was easy this way.

“The theatre was always a treacherous place.”

“You have a flight leaving in four hours. I’ll send you more information soon.”

“Thanks, Dick.” Artemis pauses for a brief second, then, her voice quiet: “Have you found anything out on—”

“No.” Dick sighs. “He hasn’t shown up anywhere. It would be a lot easier if I had a name…”

“Tell me about it. Alright. I should go. Say hi to Zee for me.”

“Okay. Talk soon.” He hangs up, and Artemis pulls her suitcase out of her motel room and shuts the door behind her.

Rome is bright, beautiful, and bustling. Artemis has been here before, she even owns property here. She loves Italy, and all that it stands for.

The job is a little complicated, her extra information coming with a name of a character and a ticket to a play called Natalie. She’s never heard of it before, but then again, she didn’t expect to. She never had time for such a normal thing as a play. And she wouldn’t be there to watch. She was there to work.

She arrives in Rome early morning, with enough time to check in her hotel and have a quick nap before she needs to be moving again.

Feeling rejuvenated, she enters the brisk Autumn air with her hands in her pockets, moving through the crowd and towards the theatre. She was going to scope out the area, get a feel for where she will have to be to pull off the kill.

She gets in easy enough, and is surprised to find that the theatre is buzzing with activity. A rehearsal, she decides. This will make things easier, and more complicated.

Moving through a group of girls with bright red spots painted on their faces, she sits up near the back, observing everything silently.

It’s a musical, she soon learns. A dark one too. She spots her target instantly, a young man with a quick smile and quick feet. And he’s usually always singing to a girl, who Artemis assumes the play is named after. Despite being here to watch only for opportunities, she finds herself enjoying the play all the same, the rapid-fire Italian making the play richer than it would normally be.

And then things get interesting. Natalie is distraught and full of grief because the targets character, Russell, had been caught cheating on her. So she pulls a gun on him and shoots him.

And then Artemis knows exactly what she’s going to do.

She hangs around until it’s done, with Natalie locked in prison and the other inmates moving in on her in a dramatic wave until the stage goes dark, and then makes her way down to the stage and slipping around to slip in the curtains along the side of the stage.

She’s generally ignored by the others, just someone doing final checks for the props.

And then she finds the gun, the one Natalie uses to kill Russell, and Artemis is happy to find it’s modelled on on a regular pistol, easy to find. In fact, she owns one herself.

Satisfied, she leaves briskly, to get herself ready for the night viewing.

The killing scene is nearing, and Artemis excuses herself from the row of seats she was sitting at.

She moves through the dark quietly, her target singing about how in love he was with Rozetta, but Natalie was still oh so dear to him.

Artemis moves through the employees only door, then enters the backstage area, keeping her eyes down as she searches for the right prop box. It takes her a while, and she’s beginning to feel slightly nervous, because if she misses this out she will have to quickly make new plans and that would not work out at all.

But her nerves are now at bay as she spots the gun, sitting neatly on top of a table and beside the actress for Natalie, who is talking in whispers to the girl who plays Rozetta.

With gloves hands, Artemis pulls her replica gun from her pocket, slowly reaches across and grabs the prop gun. She replaces it with the real one, lingering for only a second more before moving steadily away from the two actresses just as a man wearing a microphone calls for Natalie to ready herself for the stage. 

Artemis leans against the wall at the side of the stage, hidden in the shadows, and watches the scene unfold.

“You’re a liar, and I never should have trusted you, Russell. You and Rozetta, you can both go to hell!” And then Natalie brings out the gun, black and sleek and unknown to her, very deadly.

The target’s eyes widen, and he puts his hands up. “Think about this, Natalie, you don’t want to kill me. I will end it with Rozetta, and stay only with you—”

“No. You lie to me again.” Natalie clicks off the safety, and Artemis can’t help but smile.

“I swear, I love only you, I will not see Rozetta again—”

“You have no right to speak her name in front of me! It is your own fault you must die.”

And then she pulls the trigger.

The gun fires, the sound echoing around the stage, and the target only has time for his eyes to widen before he falls forward.

Natalie is frozen, the gun still pointed to where the target had stood, and the crowd, not knowing that this was not part of the play, begins to clap.

Artemis takes that as her cue to leave.

And she nearly makes it out, too, passing through the employee only door unnoticed and entering the cool backstage hall to leave out the back way when a door to a bathroom opens and a hand reaches out to grab her coat and pull her in.

She’s instantly pressed up against the back of the door, and she stares into green eyes.

“Artemis.”

Her breath catches in her throat, and then she’s being kissed, desperately and quickly and she hardly has time to breath between each one.

When he finally pulls away to catch his own breath, she’s able to splutter out a “you,” because she doesn’t know what else to call him.

He grins at her. “Me.”

“How’d you find me?”

“An assassin must have his secrets.”

“Is your name a part of those secrets?”

“No.”

“Then why have you never told me your name?”

“Because you never asked.”

And he kisses her again, a hand going up to hold her head steady, the other going to her hip to pull her closer, and she melts into it, because she didn’t quite realise how much she had missed his touch.

It seems crazy to her, as they kiss in a cold bathroom just a short walk away from a murder, that she could crave the touch of a person she has only ever seen briefly throughout the last few years. Of a person who shot her father, who still came for her even when she shot him, who stole a kill from her and then kissed her in places that should never be kissed by anyone who wasn’t good enough.

It was crazy, it was wild, it was right.

She bunches a hand into his hair and pulls his head back from where he had been nipping at her throat hungrily so she can look at his face.

He’s breathing hard, his eyes dark and his pupils unbelievably big, and there’s a new scar on his lip and over his eyebrow, which she traces with a finger.

“What’s your name?” She asks quietly, and he blinks at her.

“Wally.” He says. “My name is Wally West.”

She smirks. “Wally? Your name is really Wally?”

He nods, his eyes shining with honestly and his lips quirking into a smile to answer hers.

“I was expecting something more spectacular, really. All these years of wondering, and it’s only Wally.”

“My parents weren’t that fussy.”

She laughs. “You are one interesting man, Wally West. Now tell me, why do you follow me around the world? Surely I’m not that interesting.”

“You are, you have no idea.”

“But why?”

He grabs her arm, stepping back and pulling her away from the door. The other side of the bathroom is a wall covered with pipes, a sign in Italian reading not to touch them. Wally ignores it, maybe because he doesn’t understand what it says, and he spins her around and presses her against the exposed metal.

“Because I can. Because it’s fun. Because I hope to win the girl.”

Artemis laughs again. “And what makes you think you will win the girl?”

“Because she owes me.” He kisses her again, until she’s dizzy and breathless and wanting more, and he holds her hands behind her back, the metal of the pipes cool on her skin.

It’s too late she realises what has happened.

He pulls away, grinning at her, and she leans forward uselessly, her wrists cuffed together around a pipe.

“I was about to agree that I owed you a thank you, but now I don’t think I feel up to it.” He smirks at her tone, because she’s trying to sound defiant but she can’t because she’s still smiling.

“Save your thanks. I got what I came for. For now.” He’s backing away, smirking at her, and she huffs.

“When I get out of this, I’ll track you down and get my revenge.”

“I look forward to it, Artemis Crock.”

And then he slips out the door and she doesn’t see him until four years later, in a hot alley in Hong Kong.

 

~~~*~~~

 

And finally, this is Madrid:

The early dawn light is shining through the window, unhindered because the curtains were never pulled the night before. It gives the room a soft, sleepy feeling, and it’s such a big contrast from Artemis’s everyday life, it’s comfortable and warm and it feels nice.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” She whispers against Wally’s skin, looking up at him through her lashes. He turns his head to the side so he can look at her, at how she’s pressed up against his side and pressing her lips softly to his shoulder, her fingers twisting with his.

“I’m already in love with you.” He says. And this time she’s the one to smile at him, pushing herself up with her elbow to straddle him, leaning down so her face is inches from his. Her blonde hair falls around his face, and he lifts a hand to brush it behind her ear, his fingers light on her skin and leaving a trail of heat on her cheek.

“Okay.” She grabs both of his wrists and holds them away from her, against the backboard of the bed, and leans down to kiss him. It’s nothing like their usual kisses, this one is deep and full of meaning. Her fingers move on his wrists, unnoticed, and she pulls away. He opens his eyes, so bright a green, and stares up at her face.

“Isn’t this the part where you confess your love to me too?” He teases, and her grin widens, making her eyes crinkle.

“Yeah.” She presses a small kiss onto his nose. “But I’m not one to follow the rules.” She pulls away, ignoring his small sound of protest as she makes her way around the room to salvage her clothing, pulling them on as she finds them.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a flight to catch.” Fully dressed now, she moves over to where his pants are discarded on the floor and reaches into the pocket, grabbing his wallet. “And I’ll be taking this, too.”

“Hey—” She looks up at him just as he tries to get up, but he can’t, because both his wrists have been tied to the headboard tightly. “Artemis!”

“This is revenge for Rome. I’ll see you ‘round, Wally West.”

She walks away, ignoring him as he pleads for her to let him go so he can at least put some underwear on, still smiling as she closes the door behind her and enters the warm Summer air.

He’d catch up to her eventually, because this was only Madrid, and they had so many other places in the world to meet up in.

She would be waiting for him.

 

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was so, so fun to write. I'm still debating whether I should add more or leave it as it is.  
> But yes. This is my first fic to post on AO3! I hope you all liked it!  
> If you want, feel free to follow me on Tumblr! tayraystar.tumblr.com  
> (I change my url a lot, but that is my default url, so if it is different that link should redirect you to my blog)


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